


and wave ‘em right through a soft fuzzy man!

by angelicwerewolf



Category: Furry (Fandom), No Fandom, Original Work
Genre: Attempt at Humor, Big H at first, Christmas, Fluff and Humor, Furry, Humor, M/M, Not Beta Read, Supernatural Elements, Trans Male Character, even tho it’s not rlly the main focus, read carefully please!, the main focus is the gay furry folks, theres mention of this character’s parents being, this was supposed to be a short drabble help
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-12
Updated: 2020-11-12
Packaged: 2021-03-10 05:14:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,088
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27529039
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/angelicwerewolf/pseuds/angelicwerewolf
Summary: Basil Leif is shedding his antlers as deers do, and Mr. Showtime, an otherworldly entity disguised as a fox, is not only confused but extremely concerned as he doesn’t understand why are his antlers irritating him.
Relationships: Basil Leif (OC)/Mr. Showtime | Cato (OC)
Kudos: 3





	and wave ‘em right through a soft fuzzy man!

**Author's Note:**

> they’re just dumb clueless gays as all of my other ocs are, what more can I say
> 
> to reiterate: this is a story about a furry deer and a furry fox. The deer, Basil, is a skeptical forest ranger who’s a fan of Mr. Showtime’s— the furry fox— radio show where he reads and plays out stories, and he happens to develop a crush on the mysterious Mr. Showtime.
> 
> One day, Basil finds the famous cryptid that is said to roam the forest campgrounds he works at and, well he’s still skeptical, thinks it’s all a magic trick, and meets Mr. Showtime since this cryptid happens to be his pet and Mr. Showtime, upon meeting Basil, decides “I Like This Mortal” and bam. he’s gay for Basil. You’re welcome.
> 
> Basil is a White-Tailed Albino Deer, and Mr. Showtime is. some otherworldly entity but his mortal form is a mixture between a red and arctic fox. His pet (Rascal, who doesn’t make much of a appearance) is a little fish tailed aquatic goat thing.
> 
> song title are lyrics from Lemon Demon’s “Soft Fuzzy Man”! Aka: Basil and Mr. Showtime’s theme song at this point

Mr. Showtime has known Basil for less than a handful of months— having met in early fall, now with early winter coming in— so he could count the exact precise number of days, but regardless of the relatively short amount of time he’s gotten to know his developing crush he’d already noticed and picked out little things that indicated certain things that made him readable, while he usually wasn’t.

Like the way his fluffy tail twitched in a slow and almost  _ too  _ relaxed manner, most times indicating he was miffed or irritated. Or the way the fluff on his cheeks stood up, making it easy to spot when he was blushing under all that snow white fur. Or when he crossed his arms with one hip jutted out to the side in an almost sassy lean, and while the body language indicated the deer was in a neutral kind of state, the expression crossing his face could and can always be up on the table.

He never did see him sad in that little hip-jutted and arms-crossed stance of his, come to think of it. So at least  _ that  _ was off the table, but the fox still didn’t think that incorrect piece of the puzzle would help solve the mystery of Basil’s sudden  _ insistent  _ scratching around the base of his antlers. Basil wasn’t mopping or even in the slightest bit gloomy, so the sad puzzle piece wouldn’t fit for the explanation.

It’s true, he could ask him, instead of watching the back of head as he worked over something at his equipment table —  _ ‘Wouldn’t that be weird?’  _ Showtime asked himself, debating in silence.  _ ‘What if it’s a personal thing and I overstep his boundaries?’ _ Scrunching up his snout, Showtime imagined all the ways the antlers thing could possibly upset the gentle and quiet deer he’s still getting to know. Basil had always been so careful around his questions, going as far to make sure he avoids certain topics he doesn’t know if other people are comfortable with unless told otherwise. As the general memo goes for everyone but, Basil was extra careful and almost anxious even if he didn’t show it on the surface.

It wouldn’t be fair or respectful of him to ask something that he wasn’t even sure in the first place what it meant, or if it was okay to ask, so deciding against was the best course to conclude in. That just left him wondering, though, and to observe if this was a tattletale for anything specific. He watches when Basil puts his pencil down and groans a little, raising his hand to rub one of the antlers as if sore.

Basil then went to move in order to face something else in the room and Showtime quickly ducked himself away to pretend he’d been paying attention to the coffee in his paws. The cream swirls in his coffee  _ did  _ look like the swirl in his eyes, which was interesting enough, and he hoped that Basil would notice that if he noticed Showtime’s petrified form thinking how interesting it is to gaze into his half-empty coffee.

He didn’t. _ Thank God. _ For he only got up for a quick second to look at himself in the mirror, check something over, then continued on his path to something he forgot at the cabin-station’s studio. Then went right back to writing. Showtime assumes he’s working on a fictional cryptid thriller, as that was next week’s theme for the radio show and he’d offered him an entry to be read on air.

Basil was a surprisingly good writer. It came only as a surprise since Basil admitted he’d never written a story down on paper, only imagined things in his head. Or sat down to read a book. If Basil wanted to, Showtime thought, he could certainly become a writer but the fox himself knew he was comfortable and proud of his status as a forest ranger. The caring of nature was his passion as much as reading odd and spooky stories were. 

That’s beside the point however, being swooped away off in daydream land about Basil wasn’t gonna get him any closer to figuring out what was up with the man in question and his antlers. Maybe he should know what that means in the first place, but can you blame an otherworldly entity who went out of his way to avoid actual contact with the entire world. Showtime flopped his ears, sighing quietly to himself before downing the rest of his coffee. He should stop watching Basil’s every move in the most likely futile attempt to understand without asking, he could potentially weird out his cherished companion.

He stood from his seat at the kitchen table and put the coffee cup in the sink before walking over to the very same object of his affection. “So, Basil,” Showtime hummed, placing a welcomed hand on the deer’s shoulder. He was careful of the antlers when he leaned down. “Can I get a little sneak peek of your wonderful work?”

“You haven’t even heard what it is about,” He pointed out with a playful smirk, looking up at him. “How can you be sure it’s good?”

That little smirk along with being greeted by the deer’s soft fuzzy face made Showtime’s heart do the whole gymnastics inside his ribcage that it got caught up in his throat in a lump. He swallowed down, cracking a smile to try and hide the fact he got flustered. “Don’t tell me you forgot the stories you wrote weeks after we met, Basil, and showed them to me!””

“Touché! But not everything I work on will come out great, y’know, trial and error.”

“Don’t sell yourself short, now.”

“Alright, alright.” Basil playfully batted at him and Showtime replied with a proper dramatic gasp. Basil may be rolling his eyes but his smile gives it away. “The story revolves around the protagonist looking for his friends who went to go camping, but never made it to the camping spot they reserved, so the protagonist takes it upon himself to solve the mystery since authorities refuse to take it seriously. It’s not long after that the protagonist, following his friends’ steps, stumble upon a fenced off, kinda hidden, but abandoned facility of sorts.”

Showtime hummed, offering a nod of approval as he thought. “I like it, I like it very much! I can’t wait to read it on-air, everyone will be at the edge of their seats!”

Showtime didn’t catch it, as he’d leaned back and twirled in another of his dramatic but charming flairs, but Basil shrunk on himself quite flustered. He had to hold every part of him from saying something teasing, or burying his face in the small stack of papers, so he opted for going back to writing to distract his mind from the fluttery feelings in his chest and stomach. “You’re much too kind, Showtime. Thank you.”

“No problem at all, Basil. You deserve the praise and I am more than honored to be one of those people to give it to you.” As he twirled back around to properly face Basil, he saw his hand with neat polished fingernails scratch the base of the antlers once more, if even a more absent minded automatic reaction rather than actually registering the itch. Basil only hummed in a soft response that brought the fox back to the matter at paw, the story, and brought his paw to pat the back of the deer’s back. “Do take some time to rest, though. The airing’s next week so you have all the time in the world.”

“Oh— Thank you again, Showtime.”

“It’s my pleasure!”

Before Showtime slinked off entirely into the studio for some pre-recordings of next week’s airing, he shuffled around some drawers quietly for ointment. Maybe that’s what Basil needed for his antlers? So when he found it and laid it out in an obvious, easy to spot place, so it was needless to say that when Showtime came back from his studio an hour later — He was surprised to see the ointment unopened, undisturbed, and in the same place as before.

Mortals were intriguing, but confusing when you’ve barely interacted with them and had little to go off of.

But he digresses. After duties regarding their works, Showtime invited Basil to stay over for dinner, and spent a wonderful evening making food together. Throughout the food cooking and eating the deer made all effort in his power to not scratch the antlers yet again, as he’d been doing countless times during the day — given they were working with food and that was unsanitary — and eventually seemed to forget about whatever itch compelled him to do so.

It only came back about when Basil had to go back home given he had errands to run tomorrow. Showtime offered for Rascal to go along, as his little cryptid pet was sure to protect him on his walk home.

And so that’s exactly what Showtime and Basil did. They bid their farewells after Basil graciously accepted Showtime and Rascal’s help, and the little goat-like critter followed him all the way home to keep him safe— then went right back to Showtime’s radio station-cabin hybrid home.

  
  


————————-

  
  


The next day Basil had gone up early to run his errands. Some of them weren’t really errand  _ errands,  _ more like a family catch up. His parents had a hard time accepting him at first, and even though they tried now and accepted him— the damage still had been done and Basil found it a bit difficult to  _ not  _ distance himself from his parents. He didn’t owe them visits and such, but for the sake of his own peace of mind he tried.

It went well, as far as he could tell, then went on with the rest of his actual errands after the quick catch-up. He’d let out a large portion of his personal life matters from his parents, such as the top surgery and his interest in Showtime— another man— that was a topic he’d tell them another time, though he did not have to. He wasn’t sure yet.

The anxiety of telling his parents more and more and letting them into his life again just a bit more dissolved through the day, though, his relaxing errands taking his mind off things. He was Christmas Shopping, even if it was the middle of November, but better sooner than later with the rush that comes with holiday months as is.

He knew just precisely what to get for his family members, friends, and coworkers — but Showtime was a trickier jack in the box to guess, Rascal not so much so he’d gotten the little pet a gift he’s sure to love.

Showtime, though, Basil couldn’t even begin to guess what’s something he’d need or want. His recording and studio equipment is up to date, his radio headset is brand new, he had a phone— surprisingly— and plenty of books he’d yet to read. His words, not Basil’s.

What  _ could  _ he get for him? Well. He sure wasn’t going to get any closer to a gift idea by standing still in an aisle, staring blankly at a display of art supplies. Basil blinks back into the present, rubbing his eyes to help them refocus.

After a little while of silence and wobbling through other aisles, Basil walked carefully around other customers as he weaved through shelves. He mumbled low enough to himself, inspecting a rather curious set of collectibles in the aisle as he walked by. “Think, Basil. Think. If I were Showtime, what would I like for Christmas…”

Now paused in the front of the collectibles and toys aisle, Basil stares long and hard at nothing in particular, thinking and guessing and checking ideas off his mental list. It’s not long before Basil drops his hard thinking posture and sighs, scratching near the base of his irritable itchy antlers. It’d been a while since he last shed them, he was starting to wonder when that’d happen and it  _ of course  _ had to be when he met his radio show-aficionado crush. After a moment’s more of pondering in his own little world, Basil snatched a three-headed golden dragon from a rack of collectibles. It wasn’t for Showtime, he’s not sure if the fox even liked the movies from where this dragon’s form, but he had a different field of ideas to try.

The jewelry department.

It’s quite a bit up there in his price range,  _ actual  _ genuine jewelry, but his Christmas Bonus had just come in a week earlier and no price was too big for the people he cared for. Showtime wasn’t one to wear jewelry all that often, aside from some nearly invisible ear studs and necklaces that were hidden under his clothes so he finally had an idea what to look for.

Sure, he can ask him but that’d give away the surprise. Basil was void of any ideas to discreetly ask what kind of jewelry he would like to have or just enjoy in general without giving it away he was up to something, even if he had that blank expression to his aid. He’s sure Showtime would like the gift, though, or at the very least appreciate the thought if the jewelry didn’t match his liking even if he had a pretty good idea of it.

Anyways. Basil scoured the cases of accessories up and down, staring for longer than he should at one piece of decor just to walk away indecisive. He inspected through rings, earrings, jewels, even piercings for nose and lips but never got to a concrete decision until the very last sandwiched aisles of the department.

On display was a not too fancy and not too flashy necklace of black leather and one peachy-colored lotus charm with dark green leaves. It looked genuine, and that wasn’t only because of the brand behind the necklace’s design. He must’ve stared at it for quite some time to have someone notice him all the way down this aisle, since sooner or later an employee working on this side of the department approached him with a bright smile.

The rabbit came up behind the case, opposite to Basil’s position. “Welcome to Marbles Square Shopping Mall! How may I help you today, sir?” The rabbit greeted with a peppy tone to his voice. “Has anything caught your eye so far?”

“Evening.” Basil nodded, a soft smile placed across his features. ”Actually, yeah. I’m thinking of getting this lotus flower necklace as a gift, I’d like to buy it.”

“Of course! Would you like it gift-wrapped, then, sir?”

“That’s okay, but thank you for the offer.”

The rabbit hummed happily as he took the necklace off the display and packed it while Basil pulled out his wallet and fish out the credit card. He had to put down the rest of the gift bags to try and maneuver all of the things at once, when he suddenly realized he’d yet to pay for the three-headed dragon collectible. He lowered his ears, embarrassed.

“Uh— Excuse me?”

“Mm?” The employee blinked, stopping mid-packing to turn his head up to the deer.

“I’m sorry to bother, but, am I able to pay for this over here?” Basil set his wallet down to pick the figure from the floor, setting on the counter. “My apologies. I should’ve asked that sooner.”

“Oh! It’s no problem, buddy!” He grinned and cheerfully took the figure in his hands, scanning it after inserting the necklace’s barcode price.

The total was brought up and Basil paid the amount, giving the kind employee a good afternoon and a thank you before leaving the store. It’s not until he’s driven all the way back home, dropped off the gifts stuff, and decided to walk to Showtime’s yet again that he realizes he’d forgotten to buy the much needed ointment. He had regular ointment, but not for antlers and horns or the itchiness that comes around the base at them. The deer stopped mid-walk to the radio station-cabin to slap a hand up against his face and give out a long, tiring groan.

“I need to get better at remembering to write down things when it’s a long list..” Basil dragged his hand down across his face and continued to walk. Maybe Showtime had any? He vaguely recalls seeing some cream-like thing on the counter the day before, but he was so caught up in his writing he forgot to ask the eccentric fox if he could use any.

Basil got there in no time, joined halfway by Showtime’s pet Rascal who bounced around in circles around him as they went. He was a curious little thing, magic trick or not. The deer was still skeptical about the whole.. supernatural aspect of Showtime and his little cryptid pet.

Even if they were the living embodiment and proof of such things in actuality, Basil’s whole reality was being flipped upside down. He didn’t ponder on that for long though as he was quickly caught up in a chat with Showtime once he showed up, talking about other story theme ideas weeks in advance to keep a neat schedule, what lunch they should cook, even talked about the upcoming holidays and played some Go Fish.

Showtime wasn’t all that acquainted with holidays but he got the gist of it and Basil was more than happy to explain. In fact, he was doing just that with one of the many holidays around the world when he was interrupted by the unfriendly reminder of the itch in his horns.

It felt a bit irritated than last time, and he got reminded yet again he hadn’t bought any ointment for it. Basil frowned, his rough scratching and facial expression going noticed by the concerned Showtime. Basil put his phone down for a moment, smiling at the fox. “Hey, Showtime? Do you have any ointment for itches, irritation, antlers and horns?”

Showtime’s fluffy ears perked up and he shot up from the seat at Basil’s side at the speed of light, his triumphant expression almost giving Basil the sense he’s missing context for something. “I don’t have any for horns and antlers on account of both my forms not having any, but I do have for itches, irritation  _ and  _ rashes!”

The long legged fellow strode over to a kitchen cabinet, pulling open a drawer filled to the brim with stuff. Showtime’s tail waved every which way so he couldn’t quite see all the things he juggled around so they wouldn’t hit the floor, but his attention was brought back to the fox himself when he began talking again. “I’ve handled way too many Poison Ivys in my lifetime to know I gotta be prepared.”

Basil was a wildlife expert, he knew about survival in the wilderness and could identify many critters, plants, and knew just about every living breathing thing around these parts, so to head Poison Ivy was in the area was a surprise. “There’s…” The deer crinkles up his snout, thinking if he’d just missed the plant entirely. “There’s Poison Ivy around these parts?”

“Oh, no, not at all!” Showtime makes a little quiet  _ ah-hah  _ and twirls around with the anti-itch ointment in his paws. “It’s just that  _ someone here  _ likes to go exploring a bit too much and forgets what Poison Ivy is.”

Showtime was giving a pointed glare to none other than the little goat-looking pet of his. He looked like such a sweet little angel of a pet, he himself looked clueless as to what Showtime was even speaking of. Basil couldn’t help but to giggle, something he tried to strain and hold back but couldn’t all that well.

“What, you mean that sweet angel? He could never.” Basil took the offered ointment, smiling innocently as the other gave him a playful  _ how dare you  _ sort of look.

“You defend him now, but wait until he turns up at your doorway with a dead rat as a gift.” Showtime flopped back down besides Basil and pouted, all in good fun of course.

“Oh, I cannot wait for that day. It’ll be quite the thing to wake up to! Who knows? Might not even need coffee.” Basil twisted the little jar open and waved it slightly as he looked to the other at his side. “Thank you, by the way, for the ointment.”

Showtime didn’t say anything after that, and usually it would be a little weird for someone as chatty as him but not something for concern, but as Basil dipped two fingers into the minty cream and started applying it to the base of his antlers, from the corner of his eyes he could see Showtime watching with a mixture of emotions.

It’s like he was just curious and watchful of what he was doing, but at the same time he looked like the man was baffled and needed an explanation, yet was too embarrassed or worried to ask. Showtime surely knew deers got irritable horns every few years they shed, right?

It would be silly to ask if he knew— of course he knew— Showtime has been around long enough in the mortal realm to know things as common as that. Then again..

_ No _ . Basil doesn’t quite shake his head, but he does flick the side of it a little bit.  _ That’s dumb to ask. He may have isolated himself nearly his entire life, but it’s common knowledge.  _ Taking that into account, Basil finishes applying the cream and puts the small jar away — He thanks Showtime for allowing him to use it once again, and this time it seems that Showtime registers the words and responds appropriately to it.

Afterwards it seems like the whole antler business is forgotten for about half an hour. They’d jump from the topic of holidays to the subject matter of cosmic horror and how hard it is to pull in an effective way that made it a good cosmic horror monster and story. It’s somewhere around that conversation that Showtime just seems to freeze in time— well, not really, more in shock— but he just sort of froze with another mixture of expressions. Somewhere between horrified and concerned.

“Is cosmic horror too much? We can stop and switch on to another subject—“

“Basil.”

For once, Showtime was sort of unreadable. “Uh.. Yessir?”

“Your  _ antlers. _ ”

“I do have those, yeah. What about them?”

Showtime only but wordlessly and mostly unmoving motioned with his paws to the antlers.. on the couch between the two of them. Basil hadn’t realized but the itchy things had shed— no wonder his head didn’t itch and hadn’t gotten interrupted by it for that half hour, he sure felt quite alleviated now that he thinks about it.

That was one question answered, but there was still the fact Showtime had a face like he just witnessed an accident before him.

“Showtime—“

“Your  _ antlers! _ ” Showtime sprung from the couch as if this were a life of death situation. He searched high and low around the main rooms of his cabin for.. well, something, but he kept panicking and muttering about calling an ambulance and to keep awake. “Oh dear, oh dear! This is no bueno!”

It took Basil about a minute to realize what he was going on about, changing looks with Rascal meanwhile Showtime lost his marbles in a panic. “Hey, uh,” Showtime swooshed by him, Basil completely unheard. “Showtime?”

“Don’t worry, Basil! Keep pressure on the wound! Don’t let any blood run out!”

“Showtime—“

“I’ve got you covered. I’m no medic, but I certainly know a thing or two about patching up wounds!”

“Showtime, can you listen—“

“No no, I should call  _ the  _ actual experts on this field— Oh dear me, where’s my phone?”

_ “Cato!” _

As if put on pause, Showtime straightened up and froze for just a little while then turned around. His ears twitched, watching an antlers-lacking Basil stroll up to him. “Hey! You used my kinda-real name! ….Oh my god, we need to call an ambulance!”

“Cato! Listen to me,” Basil took Showtime’s paws in his own and squeezed them, smiling up to the taller man. “Do yourself a favor and calm down, you’re gonna suffer from a heart attack doin’ that. I’m just fine, Showtime, deers shed their antlers from time to time. It doesn’t happen every year for every deer but it’s pretty common!”

“But— That’s attached to  _ your  _ heads?”

Showtime looked almost horrified at the mere idea of a head wound, Basil had to remind himself Showtime wasn’t of this world— At least he said that was the case, and every day he believes it a little more. “Yes.” Basil admits. “They’re attached to our heads, but in the case of us deers, our skulls have a base from which the horns grow then fall. It doesn’t leave open wounds or crack our skulls in any way.

Now, they  _ are  _ both animals and people like us whose horns can be painful if lost as they’ve not designed to be shed, just like my antlers can hurt if someone tries to pull ‘em off whether they’re ready to be shed or not. It can be dangerous if one’s not careful with them.”

Basil squeezed Showtime’s paws one more time before gently dropping them back to his side, reaching over to the couch where one of his now-shed antlers laid. “They  _ are  _ made of bone but they kinda feel like honeycombs, but fuzzier! Or bloodier.”

Showtime’s expression had shown so much in the span of so little. From the fear of just a moment’s ago to that of wonder, even if still a little confused, to once again fear— and slight panic. Basil rushed to explain himself better, seeing that the whole bloody antler thing was about to boil him over in worry. “Hey, hey! No need to look panicked, Showtime! The whole bloody thing’s called a velvet shed, and it isn’t painful for me at least, but basically it’s as if the antlers’ shedding old skin.”

He waved the antler and turned to face Rascal, who immediately became aware of what looked like a toy to him. The little critter began to chase after it, aware of the fact the second antler was right besides him on the floor — He just wanted to play with Basil. “I do hope that clears things up though, Showtime. You looked absolutely mortified.”

He let Rascal catch the antler from his paws and watched him run off into his little built-in den under the stairs. When he turned around, Showtime was evidently eased but he still looked a little worried.

“It did! Thank you, but, doesn’t it make your head hurt,” Showtime frowned, stepping up closer and beside Basil’s to take a peek at the top of his head. He was taller than him so he got a pretty good view. “Or doesn’t it feel sore?”

“I mean, the irritation more than anything definitely gives me a headache, but I don’t have one now. It does feel sore now, though.” Basil shrugged. “It’s no biggie.”

Showtime had kneeled down at that point to pick up the extra antler, then shot up so fast he got dizzy in the head. “No  _ biggie?  _ Basil! That’s your  _ head. _ ”

“Don’t lose your  _ head  _ now, Showtime.” The deer snorted into his sleeve, much too amused with the face he was given. “It’s fine, I promise! I’ll be okay.”

“Hmm. If you say so..” Showtime then points a finger to the antler. “What do you want me to do with this, by the way?”

“Anything you want, really. I sometimes use them for decoration, so you can keep that one for yourself— That’s a weird thing to say from me.” Basil blinked as he scrunched up his snout.

“How’s that weird? Some people keep their teeth after they’re pulled out at the dentists, silly! Using one’s antlers is far from weird.” Showtime said, walking into the kitchen. “You’re fine!” He got on his tip-toes and reached the top of his kitchen’s cabinets to place the one curved antler up there — It looked like a centerpiece that brought the kitchen’s decoration together. “There! Now,”

Showtime continued, facing a Basil still standing where he was. Basil hoped to whatever was above that the fox couldn’t notice his face getting increasingly warm to the point his fur was turning a blushing shade itself.

“Would you like a head massage?” Offers Showtime, already washing his hands in the sink. “If it’s sore then I must try and help make it less sore! If that’s, uh, alright with you, Basil.”

“Oh.” That wasn’t helping Basil’s flush. “That does sound good right now, and you have gentle paws. I’d like that then, yeah!”

Was that considered flirting? If it was, Basil once again hoped to whatever's above Showtime wouldn’t catch up on that. If he did he’s not sure, since Showtime just gave a happy grin and trotted back to his side. “Perfect!” He said, taking Basil by his paws to guide back down to the couch.

The rest went on in comfortable semi-silence. When Showtime took his seat, he invited Basil then asked him if he could turn around and massage him from the back like that. It took him a moment of head massaging for Showtime to realize Basil went limp at some point, and when he let go the deer just fell back against his chest.

For another moment Showtime panicked, which he seems to be doing a lot of today — but this time he thought Basil had straight up fainted! Right up until the moment the deer’s green hair nuzzled up into his vision as the owner of said hair turned and snuggled into him.

“Ah,” Showtime breathed a sigh of relief. “You fell asleep. You’ve been up since early morning, after all.”

Showtime may be a little paranoid of the deer’s safety, but he really had nothing to go off of that Basil was even in the slightest bit drowsy. He himself leaned back into the couch to offer Basil a more comfortable sleeping position against him, and it’s at that moment, that Showtime’s eyes open wide and the blush overtakes his face.

Oh no.

He was just doomed to become a flustered mess today, wasn’t he? It’s kind of hard not to when he had a crush on the skeptical deer.

This is how he’ll die; flustered to death. He can live— for as long as he’ll live— with that.

**Author's Note:**

> I know it’s not Christmas but listen


End file.
